


Islands

by randomdestielfangirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Season/Series 09, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arguing, Awesome Sam Winchester, Canon Divergence, Cas can cook, Dean/Cas Secret Santa 2016, Fallen Angel Castiel, First Kiss, Heavy Angst, Human Castiel, Independent Castiel, Insecure Dean, Jealous Dean, Librarian Castiel, M/M, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, No Ezekiel | Gadreel, Post-Episode: s08e23 Sacrifice, Rated M to be cautious, Sam Is So Done, Vague reference to sex, for a change
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-14 17:29:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9196166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/randomdestielfangirl/pseuds/randomdestielfangirl
Summary: “I’m sorry.”It takes all of a week of Cas pretending Dean doesn’t exist for him to cave in.“It’s fine, Dean.” Cas says frostily, pulling on his jacket with a sharp tug. He doesn’t even bother to look at Dean. “Don’t wait up.”He doesn’t come home for dinner that night. Or the next. Or on any night for the next two weeks.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kototyph](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kototyph/gifts), [etcetera_kit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/etcetera_kit/gifts), [static_abyss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/static_abyss/gifts), [delicirony (deliciousirony)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deliciousirony/gifts), [DeanOh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeanOh/gifts), [cienna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cienna/gifts), [Nonexistenz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nonexistenz/gifts).



> Written for the Dean/Cas Secret Santa Exchange. Unfortunately, the original recipient of this dropped out at the very last minute, so rather than have it go without a good home, I'm dedicating it to all the pinch hitters and the two lovely mods of this exchange. I was thrilled to be part of this exchange, so i hope you all like it! 
> 
> I could not have written this without the help of two very amazing people-
> 
> Jess, my very fantastic beta-reader, who read this multiple times despite the holidays! Thank you for all your help and kindness <3  
> Sam, who read this at its extremely awful draft stage and helped me shape it properly. Thank you for your pure awesomeness!

“Dean?” 

Dean almost drops the phone, convinced he’s hallucinating again. 

“I’m human now,” Cas says, “It’s done, the gates are closed.” 

“Cas.” Dean breathes. “Cas- I thought you’d- Tell me where you are and I’ll come get you,” he insists, pacing the hospital corridors restlessly. 

“How is Sam?” Cas asks him, ignoring his offer. 

“He’s-” Dean runs his hand through his hair with a tired sigh. “He’s pretty beat up. I had to take him to hospital.” 

“Look after him. I’m coming.” 

“Cas-” 

The phone clicks in his hand. Dean calls back. Again and again and again. No one answers. 

Three weeks pass. 

Three weeks of Dean torn between tending to a seriously ill Sam and worrying about a very human Cas travelling on his own. Three weeks of Dean alternatively veering between wild hope and fear, trying not to think about Cas alone and hungry and so, so innocent still. Does he know how to drive? How to tell the creeps who’ll rape him and dump his body in the woods from the good guys? Does he have any money, any ID? He hung up too fast for Dean to ask him any of this.    

When Cas does finally show up on a rainy Thursday afternoon, having hitchhiked and walked most of the way, his clothes are grimy with sweat and mud. There are huge bags under his eyes, his shoes are falling apart and his trenchcoat is missing. Dean is shocked at how much weight he’s lost. He also smells like rotting potatoes. 

None of that matters as Dean all but throws himself at Cas, arms tight around the other man’s trembling form, his fingers running through Cas’s greasy hair. Cas hugs him back weakly, and when Dean draws away there are tears in those blue eyes. 

“I shut them all away.” is all he manages to say before Dean drags him off to the showers. 

Dean ransacks his own wardrobe for spare clothes, throwing all of Cas’s old ones away. There aren’t too many he can spare, the business of hunting not all that conducive to having blood and ectoplasm free hand-me-downs. 

But for the first time, they have nothing but time. Time for Dean to take Cas shopping. Teaching Cas how to drive, how to shoot, how to properly enjoy a good slice of apple pie. Getting him a car of his very own, teaching him how to care for her. Going on a road trip and stopping at every attraction on the way, even the really lame ones. Introducing Cas to the wonders of good diner food. Sitting and having a beer together at the end of a long day. Teaching Cas how to be _human_. 

Dean smiles as he knocks on the bathroom door to hand Cas a fresh towel. 

He can’t wait to finally start living. 

+ 

“Here you go.” He hands Cas the gun, not letting go when Cas reaches for it. “First lesson. Guns are fucking dangerous, so always keep your hand off the trigger and put your safety on. Check and recheck to make sure it is. And keep the muzzle pointed away from you and anyone you’re not going to hurt. Capiche?” 

“Yes.” Cas says solemnly, taking it from him, testing the weight. 

“Right.” Dean breathes in deep and takes out his own Glock 23. “First thing I’ll teach you is how to field strip and reassemble it. When you can do it in your sleep and you know where each part goes and what everything does, you can shoot. You need to do it after every session, need to _know_ the thing in your hands.” 

Cas nods, watching Dean with laser eyed focus as he takes the gun apart and puts it back together before trying it. It takes him a few tries to get it right, but Dean makes him practice over and over again till Cas can do it in under three minutes. 

“Now,” Dean says, positioning Cas just right. “Feet shoulder width apart. Lean forward just a little- that’s right. Bend your knees just a little- no that’s too much, you need to be perfectly balanced- perfect. Grip your gun firmly but don’t have it in a chokehold.” 

“Now, aim. Align your sights- don’t close your left eye, Cas, keep it open. Focus on the sight, _not_ the target. You got all of that?” 

“I’m ready.” Cas nods. 

“Give it a go then. Remember, focus on the front sight when you’re depressing the trigger.” 

Cas fires. It doesn’t hit the target, but it’s close. 

“I don’t understand.” Cas says, looking bewilderedly at his gun. “I calculated the angle right. It shouldn’t have missed.” 

“It wasn’t that bad a shot for your first time, Cas.” Dean soothes, stepping closer to him. 

“When I used a gun the last time I didn’t miss.” 

“You’re human now.” Dean says, smiling at him. “Your hands are supposed to be still when you fire. You’re moving them when you’re pressing the trigger. Your wrist-” he loops his arms around Cas’s shoulders, placing his hands on top of Cas’s and holding them firmly. “Your wrist is tending to tremble. Try that again.” 

Cas fires. It hits. 

“You see?” Dean asks him, whispering into his ear. Cas shudders a little and shifts around uncomfortably. Dean lets him go. “Try again.” 

Cas tries again and again and again. The bullets splay wide. 

“Why can’t I hit it?” he snarls, looking down at his hands like he wants to set them on fire. 

“Calm down.” Dean says, “Your trigger control is not perfect, and you’re moving your wrist too much. It’s something instinctive, anticipating recoil- we just need to break that habit.” 

He walks up to Cas again and holds his hands firmly for the next round. They all hit.   

“See?” Dean whispers into his ear. “It’s nothing a bit of practice won’t fix. Just keep doing it and soon it’ll be just muscle memory, you won’t even have to think about it.” 

Cas says nothing, his body stiffening in Dean’s arms, his brow furrowing. 

“We can try again tomorrow,” Dean says. “It’s time for lunch.” 

“No.” Cas says. He looks at Dean, his expression blank. “I’ll practice a while longer.” 

“Fine.” Dean sighs, releasing him and turning to sit down. 

“Alone.” Cas says sharply. He tries to smile when Dean looks at him, startled. “Go ahead. I’ll come by in a while.” 

Dean chews his lip. 

“Please.” 

“Okay.” Dean says, sighing. “Just be careful with that. And come soon.” 

+ 

Cas doesn’t come. 

“Let him be,” Sam says gently when Dean frets. “He used to be so much _more_ , Dean. He’s adjusting.” 

Dean doesn’t think so, but he also doesn’t want to go down that rabbit hole. 

The sight of Cas emerging at dinner time, silent and sulky, does nothing to prove that wrong. 

+ 

“They’re a little chewy today.” Sam grumbles, forking another mouthful of pancakes into his mouth. 

“I’m sorry.” Cas says, looking mournfully at his own plate. “I thought I followed the directions well enough.” 

“No they’re fine, I’m sorry for complaining, I thought Dean made them.” Sam hastens to explain, cutting over Dean’s indignant “Hey!” 

“Sam’s right, they’re fine. But the secret to a good pancake, Cas?” Dean says, looking critically at the batter. “Don’t over-mix.” 

“There were lumps in it,” Cas protests. 

“Ignore them. You want the batter just combined, lumps and all. I’ll show you next time.” 

“I hate cooking. It seems such an imprecise art.” Cas mutters, stabbing at his pancakes viciously. “I don’t even like pancakes.” 

“Then why make them?” Dean asks. 

Cas looks up at him, frowning. He doesn’t reply. 

+ 

Living with Cas is more difficult than Dean anticipates. Cas routinely forgets to eat and sleep and shower, getting completely engrossed in whatever activity he’s doing till he drops from exhaustion. 

“You’re like a baby that I have to watch all the time,” Dean grouses one day. “I’ve told you over and over again that dinner is at nine. That means you actually have to get your ass to the table then, not fall asleep in a storage room so I have to keep looking for you for over half an hour.” 

“I'm sorry.” Cas blinks at him, a little dazed. It does nothing to dispel Dean's irritation. 

“And would it kill you to take a shower? Or actually help around a little, like walk into the kitchen and dump your empty mug in the sink?” Dean demands, picking up Cas’s coffee mug. 

Cas bites his lip. “I was looking for-” he begins, then catches himself. “I'm sorry, Dean.” 

“Whatever, just come on.” 

+ 

“Did you load the dishwasher?” Dean barks at Sam, who is hunched over a book in the library with Cas. 

“I did,” Cas says. 

“Of course you did.” Dean says, “Did you know you’re not supposed to put wooden stuff in it? The cutting board’s broken.” 

“I didn't-” Cas says. His blue eyes are distressed. “The instruction manual didn't say I wasn't supposed to, I'm sorry.”   

“For fuck’s sake, ask me before you start doing stuff on your own!” Dean snaps. “And how the hell did you think it would be okay putting it in? You know the temperatures the damn dishwasher gets to, of course the wood is going to warp!” 

“Come on, Dean, it's just a board, leave him alone-” Sam starts to say, but Dean cuts him off. 

“You're ten billion years old, Cas, I know you’re allergic to asking me for help, but you can just ask Sam or get on the internet before you fuck things up-” 

“I DIDN’T KNOW!” Cas roars at him and Dean steps back instinctively. 

“I didn't know, I'm sorry.” Cas says, dropping his eyes. 

Sam coughs awkwardly. 

“Yes well.” Dean says, drawing in a shaky breath. “Now you know.” 

+ 

He begins to see less and less of Cas in the weeks after. The dishes are always done, wooden utensils carefully left to drip dry over the sink every morning, but Dean never sees him or gets to talk to him alone. Sam is utterly unsympathetic to his plight, chewing Dean out over the cutting board fiasco whenever he gets the chance. 

Dean tries to apologise by making Cas burgers. Not with frozen patties, but made with fresh ground beef that’s grass fed and organic and all that stuff that Sam keeps harping about and fancy cheese. He spends four hours making his own hamburger buns so they’ll be soft and light and better than the store-bought kind and the effort is worth it when Cas’s eyes light up at the sight of his plate. 

“These are amazing.” Sam says, topping his with lettuce and taking a huge bite. 

“Don’t get used to it.” Dean says, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. 

“Thank you, Dean.” Cas says gently, the corner of his mouth lifting into a half-smile.

Dean smiles back at him, feeling that tight feeling in his chest loosen a little. 

Maybe they’ll still be okay. 

+ 

Cas drops the bombshell over breakfast on a Saturday. Not a bombshell, a fucking carpet bomb. 

“I got a job as a Library Assistant at the public library in Smith Center.” he says, smiling widely at Dean and Sam. 

“You got it? That’s absolutely amazing news man, congratulations!” Sam says, leaning over the table to hug Cas. 

Dean sits frozen at the table, looking at their beaming faces. 

“So when can you start? How did the interview go?” Sam asks, but Dean’s head is spinning too much to pay attention when Cas starts rambling. Luckily for him, Sam asks so many questions that Dean’s (lack of) reaction goes unnoticed.    

As soon as he can, he had excuses himself from the table, unwilling to name the sick feeling coursing through him. 

+ 

“You’re going on a _hunt_? I thought we weren’t doing that anymore,” Sam whines at Dean as he’s about to leave for a simple salt-and-burn. 

“I’m coming with you,” Cas says, but Dean’s not having any of it. He needs to get away and not think. And killing things is the only way he can do that. 

“You’re human now, one tiny mistake and your guts will be all over that graveyard,” Dean says firmly. “You’re not ready yet.” 

“I’ll never be ready if you keep leaving me behind,” Cas protests, “I’ve been practicing, Dean. I swear I won’t be in your way.” 

“I’ve never seen you hit a single target.” Dean says, taking a vicious satisfaction at the flash of hurt on Cas’s face. “I can’t trust you to not be in my way. Besides, Sam needs you here” 

“No I don’t.” Sam snaps. “Cas can come with you. You need someone to watch your back, Dean-”

“Also,” Dean sneers, talking over Sam. “You have a _job_ now. An actual paying _respectable_ job in a fucking library. You’re out of this business.” he feels his heart thunder in his ears as Cas’s face hardens. “I can take care of this myself.” 

He stomps off before either of them can respond. 

+ 

Sam does catch a cold while he’s away, justifying Dean’s choice of leaving Cas behind. 

He keeps going on hunts, but Cas doesn’t ask to come again. Dean’s both relieved and pissed, stuck in a hell of his own making. 

+ 

Cas starts his new job, politely refusing Dean’s offer to drop him off, preferring to drive himself in one of the bunker’s cars, a teal AMC Matador. 

“We have another new employee.” Cas announces over dinner, a couple of months after he started. 

“It’s a tiny ass library. How many do you need?” Dean complains. His left hand is sore from where a rugaru nearly clawed it off. 

“Technically we are supposed to have two Library assistants. I can do the work myself, but it helps to have Louise around. She’s very eager.” Cas says primly. He eyes Dean’s hand from across the table. “I can help you with that after dinner.” 

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean mutters, not meeting his eyes. 

He’s just so tired. 

+ 

Louise is _very_ eager, as it turns out.    

“Dean? I don’t think I can make it to dinner today.” Cas says over the phone, his voice hushed. 

“Seriously, Cas?” Dean barks, not bothering to lower his own. Sam looks at him, startled. “This is the fifth time this month! What is it this time, Louise forgot how to log in? She’s forgotten the way to the kiddie section, what?” 

“Dean.” Cas says. His voice is mild, but Dean knows he’s crossed a line. “My boss has issued an invitation to go for drinks after work. Gavin and Louise are coming along as well. It is now lunchtime, so I’m sure I’ve given you adequate notice.” 

“Fine.” Dean ends the call. 

Sam raises an eyebrow. 

“Save it,” Dean mutters and storms away to his room, viciously stripping the sheets. 

He does load after load of laundry, cleans the oven and scrubs at the grout in the bathroom. Cas comes in late, his cheeks a little pink. He greets Sam, who is lingering around the war room with a giant tome, probably to shame Dean into behaving. 

“You left your wet towel on the bathroom floor,” Dean says coldly, placing himself in Cas’s space, ignoring Sam’s presence as thoroughly as Cas is ignoring Dean’s. 

Cas tightens his fist, but says nothing. He tries to step around, but Dean doesn’t let him. 

“And you left your boots right there in the doorway where anyone can trip on them. And those were _your_ greasy fingerprints on the refrigerator that I had to clean up today.” Dean steps even closer to Cas, who is staring back at him, lips thin with rage. “You know it’s funny that you have all the time in the world to go out drinking and help your pretty little girlfriend when she gets stuck at work, but absolutely none at all to fucking _clean up_ after yourself.” 

“Dean-” Sam says warningly from behind Cas, but neither of them look at him. 

“You’re going to say anything at all, Cas?” Dean snarls at him. 

“Yes I am.” Cas snaps back, shoving him backwards. “Fuck you, Dean.” 

Sam drags him off before he can stop Cas from storming away. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Dean?” he hisses as Cas’s door slams shut. “What do you even want from him?” 

Dean refuses to answer. 

+ 

“I’m sorry.” 

It takes all of a week of Cas pretending Dean doesn’t exist for him to cave in. 

“It’s fine, Dean.” Cas says frostily, pulling on his jacket with a sharp tug. He doesn’t even bother to look at Dean. “Don’t wait up.” 

He doesn’t come home for dinner that night. Or the next. Or on any night for the next two weeks. 

When he announces on a crisp summer evening that he had found himself an apartment in Smith Center, Dean isn’t even surprised. 

+ 

It takes a single trip in the Impala to move Cas’s things to his new place. Sam and Cas proceed to debate about what furnishings to get while Dean inspects every inch of the apartment. It is a small place, with a tiny kitchenette tucked away in a corner, the view from the windows opening out to the parking lot. But it is clearly well cared for, the appliances are spanking new and it is a short walk away from the library where Cas works. 

“What are you doing?” Cas asks him, as Dean checks the bedroom outlets with a cheap nightlight. 

“Need to know all these things work as they should. You don’t want the landlord keeping your deposit for damage done before you moved in.”

“Dean’s right there. But I read every word of your lease and I took pictures of the apartment while you and Dean were bringing up your stuff, so don’t worry about it.” Sam says, fiddling about with his laptop, trying to get Cas’s internet to work. 

“Oh,” Cas says, moving away from the bedroom door as Dean pushes past him to test the kitchen outlets. He opens the cabinets and peers at the corners with a flashlight, looking for signs of roaches and mice before examining the kitchen floor for signs of water damage. 

“Everything looks fine,” he says finally, looking up to see Cas staring at him with a strained look in his eyes. “What’s wrong?” 

Instead of replying, Cas bites his lip and rushes to where Dean is on his knees by the kitchen sink and throws his arms around him. They haven’t exchanged two words throughout the entire morning, so the gesture takes Dean by surprise. He finds himself trembling as he returns Cas’s embrace cautiously. The soft cotton of his shirt feels like heaven under Dean’s fingers as he tucks his head into Cas’s neck. 

“I will miss you,” Cas murmurs into Dean’s hair, making him feel like the biggest douchebag to ever exist. 

“Then don’t leave,” Dean says and Cas withdraws almost immediately, looking unhappy. 

“Dean...” 

“Okay I got the internet to work,” Sam announces, bouncing in from Cas’s bedroom and freezing at the sight of the two of them on the floor. “You two okay?” 

“We’re fine,” Cas says, rising and holding out a hand to Dean. Dean takes it and stands up as well, avoiding both their eyes. 

“All right,” Sam says doubtfully. “We should go and have lunch. And maybe shop for a few things afterward.” 

+ 

“Still don’t get why we need to do this.” Dean grumbles as he maneuvers the Impala into a free parking spot.   

“He’s really excited for you to meet his new friends, Dean,” Sam says soothingly. “Stop sulking, it’s not like you had anything better to do.” 

“Not sulking.” 

Sam huffs, but doesn’t deign to reply as he grabs the bottles of wine from the back, as beer was apparently not fancy enough for Cas’s fancy dinner invitation. 

“Why dinner at his house though? He never used to cook,” Dean complains as he slams the door of the Impala shut and straightens his jacket. The wind is biting cold and the streets are slushy with fallen leaves. Dean shivers a little and burrows deeper into his jacket, grabbing the bottles from Sam before walking swiftly toward Cas’s apartment. 

“Dean. Sam.” Cas is beaming at them as he opens the door. “Come on in. I am very happy you both came.” 

Sam gives Cas a quick hug as he enters, but Dean stands there awkwardly with the bottles in his hands. He hasn’t seen Cas in weeks. Seven weeks and three days to be precise. Cas meets his gaze unflinchingly. reaching out to take the bottles from him but Dean doesn’t quite let go. His hands are warm on Dean’s own. Cas looks good, dressed in a dark blue t-shirt that brought out his eyes, tight enough to emphasize the broadness of his chest and the well muscled arms. His hair is brushed neat and Dean fights the urge to run his fingers through it and mess it up. This Cas looks like a hot dad at a PTA meeting, nothing like the Cas he knows or thought he knew. 

“Are you going to introduce us or you going to stand there and commune with your friend all night?” a sarcastic sounding voice asks from the couch and the two of them start a little. Cas grabs the bottles from him before steering Dean inside, his hand on Dean’s back. 

“Dean, that’s Melissa.” The red-headed woman on the couch grins and raises a lazy hand. “She’s my supervisor. And that's Louise.” A tiny girl with feathery golden hair and wide set, wispy green eyes waves at him from where she's sitting on a violently floral loveseat. It's new, as is the faded red armchair piled high with the throw pillows Cas and Sam had bought in Walmart on the first day. “And this is Gavin. He's our technical services assistant.” 

Dean shakes everyone's hand and settles down in the armchair, adjusting some of the million pillows so they won’t poke him. 

“You already know Sam.” Cas smiles, putting the bottles in the fridge. “This is his older brother Dean.”   

“Dean.” Melissa says, “Well you are just like how I thought you'd be. Bit of a heartbreaker, aren't you?” she winks at him and Dean finds himself flushed red. “But then again, maybe not, if that's all it takes to make you blush. You should hear the way Cas goes on and on about you.” 

Cas frowns at her as he offers them a glass of wine. Dean accepts it, grateful to have something in his hands, and downs more than half of it on one go. 

“Didn't know you cooked, man.” Sam says cheerfully, sipping at his own wine. “It smells amazing.” 

“I never used to. Louise taught me.” Cas smiles gently down at the girl as he sits next to her on that hideous loveseat, their bodies far too close for Dean's comfort. “I find it a surprisingly enjoyable activity. I must confess that tonight's pie was mostly her effort. I just chopped the apples.” 

Dean remembers the day he tried and failed to interrupt Cas’s never ending shooting session with a bunch of apples and a pie crust and promptly inhales the rest of his wine. 

“It's my grandmother’s recipe. Me and Cas went to the Robinson’s to pick the apples yesterday,” Louise says, blushing as she looks up at Cas, her green eyes sparkling. Dean trains his gaze away, looking down at his brother’s giant feet instead, scowling at the a muddy leaf stuck to Sam’s left shoe. 

Luckily there’s no more talk about the food or the fucking pie as they settle down to dinner (which Dean has to admit is delicious, despite the fact that every spoonful is a struggle) To his great relief, Sam engages everyone in a long conversation about government funding for libraries. Gavin, despite his waif-like appearance that reminds Dean strongly of Garth, is the loudest among them, bemoaning the fact that they were missing out on potential funding because of the superiors’ refusal to accommodate new technology. Dean stays silent, mechanically spooning the food into his mouth. Melissa argues against some of his suggestions, claiming they need to wait and watch with new technology and not jump on the bandwagon. 

“So how do you guys know Cas?” Louise asks him during a break in the conversation, clearly trying to distract from the too-heated argument. 

“We’re family,” Cas answers at the same time as Dean says, “We met through work.” 

Louise looks confused as Dean meets Cas’s eyes. The other man looks unhappy, his clear blue gaze searching Dean’s face. Dean momentarily wants to take it back, wants to wipe away the look on Cas’s face, but the sight of Louise’s golden hair touching Cas’s arm stops him. It’s like an itch he’s scratching, hurting Cas with the things he says, proving that Cas _still_ cares about what he has to say, despite the pretty thing on his arm.     

“Me and Sam used to work construction,” Dean fibs. “Met Cas while we were working on repairs to his old office.” 

“Oh?” Louise asks Cas, “Where was this? Cas is _very_ secretive about his past.” 

Cas doesn’t reply, so Dean answers in his stead. “Pontiac. He used to sell ad time on AM radio.” 

“Oh that’s just priceless,” Melissa laughs, “And here we all were, thinking you were ex-mafia or something.” 

“Somehow I can’t see you as a sales manager,” Gavin says, smiling as well. 

“I was… not very good at my old job,” Cas mutters, not meeting anyone’s eyes. Sam is glaring at Dean, but Dean chooses not to see. 

“Well I’m sure Cas made a _wonderful_ sales manager,” Louise gushes before he can start feeling guilty about what he said. Her expression is so dumbly adoring Dean wants to puke. “But I’m so happy you switched careers because I can see you clearly didn’t like your old job too much.” 

“I suppose I wasn’t,” Cas says, but he’s not looking at her. He’s looking at Dean, his face carefully blank except for the tightness in his jaw. 

“Well,” Gavin says, breaking the awkward silence. “My sister’s visiting me next week and we were thinking of a picnic. You guys want to come along?“ 

+ 

Sam doesn’t talk much during the ride home and instead keeps tapping at the tupperware container containing slices of apple pie that Cas pressed into his hands before they left. Dean grits his teeth at the sound, wanting to slap his brother’s hand away, but he can see that Sam’s _this_ close to talking about feelings, so he saves the energy and focuses on getting to the bunker as soon as possible. The bunker is good. It’s large and has multiple hideouts, so Dean can easily avoid the incoming talk for a week or two before Sam gives up. 

He’s just parked his baby and is about to escape when Sam strikes. 

“So, how long do you think it’ll take for Cas to realise Louise’s hitting on him?” 

Dean feels his insides twist, but Sam’s expression is carefully guarded. He knows his little brother and he’s not going to fall into that trap. 

“Good for him.” Dean says heartily, but his voice is slightly strangled. 

“She was really cute too. She’ll be good for Cas.” 

“Yes.” Dean says, getting out of the Impala and walking up the stairs. Sam follows him, undeterred.   

“I can see the appeal in Cas too,” Sam continues smoothly, twisting the knife in. Dean ignores him and walks faster. “His eyes? His hair? The way his shoulders looked in that t-shirt? I’d ask him out too.” 

Dean opens the door to his bedroom almost violently before turning around to face Sam. 

“Good night,” he snarls and steps back to close the door, but Sam barrels in before he can. 

“I knew it!” Sam says, “I should’ve guessed but-” 

“Get out, Sam.” 

“No.” Sam’s not smiling. “Honestly? I’ve had enough of your weird possessiveness with Cas.”      

“I am not-” 

“Shut up, Dean.” Sam looms over him and physically shoves him onto the bed, taking a seat on the chair. “You are going to listen to me now, whether you want to or not. I’m getting really tired of being in the middle of whatever’s between you and Cas.” 

Dean sighs. “There’s nothing going on.” 

“Then what was today all about? Cas tried really hard and you couldn’t even be bothered to _look_ at him, not to mention you were such an utter douche all through dinner-” 

“I didn’t-” 

“And tonight’s not all of it. Cas has been away for like two months and you’ve never even texted him to find out if he was alive-” 

“He didn’t either!” 

“Are you seriously using that as an excuse?” Sam asks him disapprovingly. “Dean, he’s been miserable ever since he’s fallen. You treat him like dirt on your shoe, you act like he’s this huge burden in your life and like you can’t stand to be around him. He left because he didn’t know what else to do and now you’re actually _upset_ about it? You’re upset he has friends? Upset he has a girl who’s interested in him and not you? Upset that he’s making a life of his own for a change?” 

“That’s not. Sam.” Dean feels the anger leave him, because Sam’s both right and wrong about his unhappiness with Cas. 

“Look, Dean,” Sam snaps. “You need to think about this. What do you _want_ from Cas? Why are you unhappy? He’s not a mind reader; it’s not fair that you keep taking everything out on him like he’s disappointing you when he doesn’t even know what you want.” 

“I...” Dean mutters, looking down at his hands, trying not to blink and let the tears fall. _I want to be with Cas. I want Cas to be here. I don’t want him dating anyone else, even though she’s probably perfect for him. I want Cas to choose me. I want to touch him and kiss him and hold him and-_ “I don’t know.” 

“You don’t know,” Sam repeats flatly. “Well one thing you should know? Is that if you don’t get your act together fast, you’re going to lose the best friend you will ever have. That is if you haven’t lost him already after tonight.” 

Dean slumps in even further into himself. 

“Think about it.” Sam says, voice softening. He places a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “I love you, Dean. You’re my brother and my best friend. But Cas is my brother too and he’s been hurting for a long time now. And I know you love him, I do. But sometimes that’s not enough.” 

Dean doesn’t look at him. He keeps his eyes trained on the hands on his lap. 

“You don’t owe me an explanation,” Sam continues. “I really think you should talk to Cas. Not if you’re going to yell at him again, but just… talk to him. Be his _friend_ and stop expecting him to behave a certain way. He needs you to just be there and accept him as he is.” 

Dean bobs his head. Sam shuffles his feet, but doesn’t say anything else. 

Only when he hears Sam’s footsteps fade does Dean let himself cry. 


	2. Chapter 2

There’s coffee waiting for him in the kitchen in the morning. Sam’s nowhere around, but Dean knows it’s his way of cheering him up. He smiles a little, pours himself a cup and sits down at the table, taking out his phone. He types out a message to Cas asking him about Thanksgiving plans and hits send before he can stop himself. Cas’s reply is almost instantaneous. 

_I don’t really have any._

_Come home. I’ll cook. Thanksgiving is a time for family._  

Cas doesn’t reply for a while. Dean chews his bottom lip, hoping he hasn’t fucked it up beyond repair. 

 _Thank you, Dean._  

 _I’ll make the pie though_ , Cas adds. _Pumpkin is traditional is it not? I’ll make apple too, of course._  

It’s an olive branch. He doesn’t deserve it, but Cas still extends it. Dean smiles down at his phone and replies. 

 _Deal._  

+ 

Dean takes the precaution of having a few beers before starting to cook on Thanksgiving day, so he’s comfortably buzzed and mellow by the time Cas arrives. The business of cooking and eating takes over the majority of the day and both of them happen to be on the list of Dean’s favorite things to do, so he’s content. Sam is happy enough to make most of the conversation, carefully skirting around Cas’s job or dating life. Dean doesn’t say it out loud, but he thanks whoever is listening for his brother’s improving health and Cas’s steady presence. He knows he doesn’t deserve any of it, but he’s grateful all the same. 

They settle down to watch _The Princess Bride_ after dinner. By the time Buttercup’s been kidnapped Sam is snoring, his mouth open and drooling as he sprawls all over the couch. 

Dean is eating his third slice of pie, moaning around it’s light, flaky crust and tart filling when Cas speaks. 

“I’m glad you like the pie. You didn’t seem to enjoy it quite so much the last time.” 

Dean looks up, fork still in his mouth. Cas’s voice holds no reproach, but there is sadness in his blue eyes as he regards Dean. 

Dean swallows. 

“Cas,” he starts. “Cas you know I’m— I never meant—” 

“It’s alright.” Cas says, touching Dean's wrist, his long fingers encircling it gently. “I'm glad you like this one.” 

Dean ducks his head, twisting his hand so he can entwine his fingers with Cas’. He takes a bit of pie, slathers it with whipped cream and brings it close to Cas’s mouth. 

“You didn’t put cream on yours,” he says as Cas opens his mouth and takes a bite. “My mom used to make it this way,” he whispers. “Thank you for making it, Cas.” 

Cas’s eyes go bright and soft and dewy, and they continue trading bites as they watch the movie.   

It’s a start. 

+ 

They text back and forth over the next few days, Dean always initiating, talking about random things. 

Cas responds with measured caution. He tells Dean that he's taken up knitting and crocheting. Dean sends him funny pictures of clouds and street signs and dogs. Polite, careful nothings flow between them, and they make Dean want to scream. 

But he knows he’s screwed up, he can do his penance. 

+ 

December is coming. Sam is cranky and recovering from a cold, his immune system so weak he seems to pick up every bug running. Cas invites them for Christmas and Dean’s now wandering in an honest-to-god _street market_ , looking for the perfect present for him and Sam.   

He finds Sam’s presents easier than he expects- a rare five-volume set of Slavic mythology and folktales, a set of organic holiday teas and some herbal fruit jam. He also buys novelty Christmas sweaters for Sam and Cas, along with mittens for all three of them. He’s lingering by a stall filled with colorful yarn and other assorted knitting and crocheting supplies when he’s approached by the owner, a tall elderly man whose kind eyes sparkle at him from beneath gold frames. 

“Looking for a gift for a knitter?” 

“I was thinking of one,” Dean says, relieved. “I have no clue what half these things are though.” 

“In that case, can I make some suggestions? My name’s Gary by the way.” 

Dean ends up getting a beautiful tan and red colored clay yarn bowl, a wooden knitting needle caddy and a bundle of yarns in pastel colors. Gary assures him that his knitting friend will appreciate the presents, and throws in gift wrapping for free. It’s when Dean’s waiting for the man to finish wrapping up the caddy in red and gold paper that he sees it. A bunch of pendants lie on a velvet case to the side, each one lovingly polished and neat, but there’s one that- as he goes closer- is engraved with a pretty powerful Sumerian charm. 

“What’s this?” he asks Gary, picking up the pendant. It looks solid silver and is shaped like the sun, with spokes rotating clockwise. The engraving in the middle is definitely a Sumerian protection symbol he’s seen before. 

“Oh that?” Gary says, peering over at Dean. “It’s a yarn cutter pendant. Fantastic thing to have about, if your friend doesn’t mind wearing jewelry. Solid silver and it’s wonderful for people who keep misplacing their scissors.” 

Dean’s confused for a second before he sees the sharp-looking undersides of the spokes on the pendant. They are long enough so anyone running a finger casually across the pendant wouldn’t get nicked. 

“Would you like to get that as well?” 

“Yes.” Dean says, handing it over. It’s pricier than he expects it to be, but the fact that it could protect Cas against most malevolent forces is enough, yarn cutter or not. 

+ 

Sam has a whole bunch of wrapped presents that Dean side-eyes as they tramp through the snow towards Cas’s apartment. The smell of gingerbread and oranges and bacon greets them as they enter, and there’s a small twinkling tree to the corner of the living room.

“You’re here.” Cas greets them, hugging them both enthusiastically. He lingers a little with Dean, his hair smelling of coconut, his warm body pressed solidly against Dean’s. 

“Sampling the eggnog already, are you?” Dean smiles as he holds Cas close, his fingers gripping the soft cashmere of Cas’s green sweater. Cas’s cheeks are a rosy red as he withdraws, his hand going to rest at Dean’s back, and his blue eyes shine with happiness as he ushers them in. 

There’s Christmas music playing on the small radio Cas has set up on the counter and there are fresh flowers everywhere, bunched together in vases by the windows and the coffee table. Outside, the snow has stopped falling. Dean sets up their presents around the tree to open the next day, the fairy lights wrapped around the tree making the golden bows gleam. Sam sprawls on the couch, guzzling eggnog and scarfing down candied walnuts. 

“I made bacon cheddar meatloaf,” Cas announces, dropping down to sit next to Dean. 

Dean beams at that, wrapping an arm around Cas’s shoulders. “Say bacon and I’m your man, Cas.” 

Cas smiles at him, dropping his head to rest on Dean’s shoulder. 

“I notice there are a lot of presents.” 

“I got you an awesome one.” Sam states from the couch. He looks positively giddy, and Dean can’t tell if that’s because he’s already a little drunk or it’s all the Christmassy-ness that Cas’s apartment is filled with. Dean feels a little giddy himself. 

Dinner is nothing short of incredible. Even the freaking salad that Cas serves along with the meatloaf is delicious and Dean actually has seconds without complaining about green stuff. Cas makes them three steaming mugs of peppermint hot chocolate afterward and they sit around the twinkling tree. 

Cas tells them about the more stressful parts of his job, like fielding off enquiries about the _Fifty Shades of Grey_ series always being unavailable or inadvertently catching amorous couples in the Religion section. Dean laughs at everything, his arm firmly wrapped around Cas’s shoulders, drunk from the rum Cas put into the chocolate, from the sensation of having Cas so close. 

“We should sleep,” Sam yawns at around one in the morning, stretching his long limbs. 

“You take the bed, Sam.” Cas says, dragging out an air mattress and sheets. “The couch is far too lumpy and uncomfortable. Dean and I can share.” 

“That's new.” Dean mutters, feeling his cheeks heat up a little at Cas’s nonchalance. “You went camping?” 

Cas looks briefly confused before it dawns on him. “I borrowed this from Gavin. Frankly I found the experience of camping… tedious.” 

Dean snorts, inflating the mattress while Cas disappears into the bedroom to change. Sam dumps their mugs into the sink and moves the couch to make room, helping Cas to lay out the fitted sheet. The goodnights are brief, and Sam’s asleep before Dean can change into his pyjamas. 

“Do you need me to turn those off?” Cas whispers when Dean climbs in next to him, pointing to the fairy lights. He’s dressed in a pair of grey fleece pyjamas, his hair even more messed up than usual and he’s wearing reindeer socks. 

“No I like them,” Dean lies, pulling the comforter over them. He feels his heart skip a beat as Cas smiles at him warmly. 

Dean’s almost asleep when Cas speaks again. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

“Mmm?” 

“Can I-” Cas chews his full lower lip. “What happened here?” he brushes his hand gently over Dean’s collarbone, making him shiver. 

“Werewolf.” Dean says, “It’s not a big deal” he hastens to assure Cas when the other man looks upset. 

Cas says nothing, his fingers stroking at the scar, his eyes clouded. 

“Hey,” Dean says softly, placing his hand on Cas’s. “I wanted to ask. I wasn’t looking, but there’s something in Des Moines that looks like Vampires. You want to tag along? I was planning on going tomorrow after I drop Sam off. It shouldn’t take more than a few days- I’m sure we’ll be back in time for you not to have to miss work.” 

“Yes,” Cas breathes, “I have lots of time off anyway. It won’t matter even if we don’t.” 

“Thanks, man.” Dean says, squeezing Cas’s hand. “I could use someone I trust to watch my back.” 

“Dean…” Cas’s grip grows almost painful before he relaxes it. He lifts Dean’s hand to his lips and kisses it lightly. “I will.” 

Dean smiles back, and they fall asleep holding hands, the lights of the tree twinkling at them like a thousand tiny stars. 

+ 

“Presents!” Sam shouts like an overgrown five-year old, picking up the first parcel he can lay his grabby hands on. Cas blinks at him from where he’s sitting up on the mattress, tilting his head in that curious bird like way that makes Dean smile. 

“A laptop,” Cas breathes as he opens up Sam’s present. “Thank you, Sam. It’s too much.” 

Sam waves the objection away, hugging Cas briefly before leaning back. “I know you have access to proper computers in the library, Cas, but I’m sure you’d like something more than that old clunky model of yours-” he breaks off when he sights the teas Dean bought him. “Wow these are amazing, thanks man!” 

“A Sumerian charm,” Cas says as he opens Dean's present, his tone bordering on reverence. 

“It’s a yarn cutter pendant,” Dean says, blushing. He points to the sharp underside of the spokes. “Thought it might be useful. For when you misplace your scissors. Or if a random shapeshifter attacks you.” 

Cas looks incredibly touched by the gesture, putting it around his neck. Sam gives him an approving look. Dean flushes and forces Cas to open the rest of them, enjoying his undisguised awe at the knitting needle caddy. 

“You didn’t open any,” Cas says suddenly, pressing Dean's presents into his hands. 

Sam got him some pretty practical presents- a leather care kit for the Impala, an antique wakizashi and randomly, a British bake-off cookbook. 

“Oh,” Dean says reverently as he opens up Cas’s present, fingering the cable knit of the wool. 

“I know it’s not much.” Cas blushes. 

“You kidding?” Sam says excitedly, putting on the hat Cas made him. “A handmade present beats everything, dude.” 

Dean smiles as he lifts the olive green scarf from the box. It’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. 

“Thanks, Cas,” he says quietly, looping it around his neck. 

“You’re really good at this,” Sam says, admiring Dean’s scarf. “I loved the cashmere one you wore yesterday too.” 

“Oh I didn’t make that,” Cas says dismissively, cleaning up the remains of the paper. “Louise gave me that one.” 

Dean feels the name like a punch to his chest and Sam throws him a concerned, cautious look before Dean manages to rearrange his face into something neutral. 

“That’s a pricey present,” Dean says, feeling his throat close up. He coughs a little. 

“It was too much. She’s a very sweet person,” Cas confesses, “But I was a little embarrassed to be honest.”  

Dean looks at the stupid giant Rudolph sweater that he bought Cas and thinks of the lines of the smooth green one Cas was wearing yesterday, the way it had hugged Cas’s broad shoulders and strong wrists and briefly wonders what Cas had got _her_. 

“Well you’re pretty close,” Dean says, trying to sound casual. “It’s your first Christmas, she probably wanted to make it special. I’m surprised you’re not seeing her today.” 

“Why would I?” Cas looks puzzled. “I admit I am fonder of her than I am of Gavin and Melissa and she is a good friend, but I’ll never- Nothing’s more important to me than you.” 

Dean blinks. 

“Best stop leading her on then,” he says, a little sharper than he intended to. 

“What?” 

“What Dean means is,” Sam interrupts. “Louise seems to have a bit of a- well, she seems very interested in you. Romantically.” 

Dean huffs, twisting his scarf in his hands. 

“Oh,” Cas says. “I thought she was just being kind.” He sounds vaguely disappointed. “I was completely out of my depth at first, so _limited_. I was good at my job but… She was so patient with me, so willing to explain the complexities of what it entailed to be human.” 

Each quiet word is a reproach to Dean, a testament to _how much_ of a failure Dean was at helping Cas. 

“Dean?” Cas’s voice is distressed. “Are you alright?” 

“Fine,” he says, getting up. Best to put the turkey out. He doesn't know if Cas has one, but he needs to pull something out of the freezer. 

“No,” Cas says, grabbing his hand and pulling him back down. “Sam, could you?” 

“I’ll go get some breakfast,” Sam says hurriedly, pulling on his jacket. He disappears before Dean can protest. 

“Dean,” Cas says firmly, placing a finger under his chin and lifting his head. “Talk to me. Why are you unhappy?” 

Dean would give an arm and leg to escape this conversation now. 

“I’m not.” 

“You’re crying,” Cas says, his hands on Dean’s cheeks, thumbs wiping at the stray tears. “Please tell me what’s wrong.” 

And Dean is tired. So tired of pretending, so tired of hurting. 

“I’m sorry.” he says, “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when you fell. I tried, Cas, I did. But you seemed to hate me being around you so much that I…” he trails off, dabbing at his eyes and moving back. 

“Dean.” Cas sounds shocked. “I never hated being around you.” 

“Then why did you push me away?” Dean asks him. “Every single time Cas, every time I wanted to spend time with you or experience something new with you, you just- you were so angry all the time. You made a damn apple pie with _Louise_ ,” he spits out the name. “Do you even remember biting my head off when I tried to do the exact same thing?” 

Cas looks stricken, but he doesn’t reply. 

“So don’t give me that shit about she being the _only one_ who helped you, the only one who cared about you. It's always like this- you say you want to hunt, you stick around for one case and you leave. I tell you I- I tell you I needed you and you just left.” He knows he’s yelling again, but he can’t seem to stop. “I fucking care, Cas. I want you there, I need you home. You left. _You_ left because you wanted to.” 

He’s breathing hard now and the stupid tears are back. 

“I know I lashed out at you, Cas, and I’m sorry for how I behaved. But I could feel you leaving, just like every single person I give a shit about and I just- I was scared and angry. I’m sorry.” He’s fucked this up all over again. “I’ll go, I’m sorry.” 

“No!” Cas growls at him, grabbing Dean and pulling him hard into his lap. “Don’t you dare run away now.” 

Dean struggles against him futilely, but Cas is too strong. After a while, he gives up and tucks his face into Cas’s neck. 

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Cas says hoarsely, raising a shaking hand to stroke Dean’s hair. “I never meant to hurt you, believe me. It was the last thing I wanted.” 

Cas’s voice is a soothing rumble in his ear and Dean sighs at the sound, burrowing deeper into him. 

“I just wanted to show you I was capable, even without my powers. I was terrified of being human forever, unable to protect you from the dangers you faced daily, unable to heal you. I was scared of being left behind, of being a burden. You’ve borne enough of them.” He presses a kiss to Dean’s hair. “I only ever wanted to stand by your side.” 

“You don’t need to be a hunter to be my side,” Dean mutters. “I need _you_ , Cas. Just you. Angel, human, hunter, librarian, whatever.” 

The hand in his hair tightens as Cas sighs. 

“I’m here, Dean.” he says. “I’ve missed you every single moment I was away. I thought you held me in contempt, I thought you-” he sighs again. “I need you too, Dean.” 

Dean lifts his head enough to meet Cas’s eyes. 

“Cas-” 

Cas kisses him. 

Dean falls into it like he’s drowning. They’ve been taking infinitesimally small steps towards this from the very beginning, from the very moment they laid eyes on each other in hell. They’ve held each other’s torn, bloodied, broken selves and put them back together as best as they can. They’ve hurt each other, betrayed each other’s trust, caused pain in ways that shouldn’t be forgivable. Yet they’ve always made their way back to each other. 

“I’ll never leave you again,” Cas whispers against his skin. “Dean-” 

Dean shushes him, tipping him back onto the mattress. 

“Not now, Cas.” he breathes. “I need you now.” 

+ 

When Sam wanders in two hours later, he doesn’t bat an eyelash at the sight of the two of them curled around each other under the comforter. The sight of his brother and his best friend finally looking at peace makes him smile. 

Almost. 

Because heaven knows Sam could’ve done without actually _seeing_ the vision of post-coital bliss that these two chose to enact in the living room.

He sighs, places the takeaway bags on the counter, steps around them to grab volume one of his new Slavic Mythology book and perches on the couch to read.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays, everyone!

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Jealous/Insecure!Dean, angst.
> 
> I do not know how guns work. I've only lived in countries where even the police don't carry one, so if I got things wrong please let me know :)


End file.
